Perfect For You
by ravenspaw
Summary: Natalie's having a bad day. Henry tries to help.


'Hey, Natalie', Henry calls as he lets himself into their apartment. It's a short walk from the train station to the building, but It's cold outside, and he's happy to be home and indoors. 'Any ideas for supper tonight? I was thinking we could order in from that Chinese place you liked last week.'

He locks the door, and hangs his coat on the hook besides the closet before he realizes she hasn't answered. He knows she's home – he sees her purse and phone on the table in the hallway.

'Natalie? Honey?' He sticks his head in the kitchen and living room as he walks by, and sees her in neither. He figures she's in the bathroom.

He sees her when he opens the door to the bedroom to get a sweatshirt - she's sitting on the hardwood floor in front of the bed, cradling a bottle of Jack Daniels that she must have gotten from the cabinet above the fridge. It's half-empty, and an empty shot glass is on the floor besides her. He knows that he opened it up a few months back, but he doesn't remember how much was left in the bottle the last time he took a drink.

Her face is red, and her eyes are bloodshot and watery.

'Natalie,' he says. 'What happened?' He isn't sure what to do, if she wants him to come closer to her to comfort her, or if she wants him to leave the room, enabling her have her break down in private.

'My mom called me today, out of the blue,' she says. Her voice is thready, unsteady. She's very carefully not looking at him, keeping her eyes on the shot glass, a barrier between them that he doesn't know how to breach or even approach. 'She wants to come here, to Chicago, to see me, to see you, to see the apartment.' She lets out a little laugh. It's not a happy laugh, but rather sounds like she's on the verge of panicking, like her emotions are all mixed up and that she doesn't know that _laughter_ doesn't match _hurt_ , or _anger_ , or _fear_. 'To see how I'm doing living away from home.'

She gestures to herself with the hand holding the Jack Daniels. 'To see this, I guess.' Her movements are smooth and fluid, and she isn't slurring any of her words. He doesn't _think_ she's drunk.

She rubs her face with the hand not holding the bottle, and her mascara smears all around her eyes. 'As if she cared about that at any point in the last four years. I guess she's having a lucid episode, and feeling guilty about leaving me and dad.'

He grabs the tissue box that they keep on the dresser, and steps a little closer to her, moving slowly so she knows he's approaching. When he's within reach, he holds it out to her, an offering that he hopes she'll accept. She looks at him, and then grabs a few tissues and blows her nose loudly. He figures it's ok for him to stay.

He doesn't want her to continue drinking, so he tugs on the bottle of Jack Daniels. 'Let me take this for now,' he says. After a minute, she relinquishes her grip on it. He puts it and the tissue box on the bed, and then sits down next to her, wrapping her in a big hug.

'You're OK,' he whispers. 'It's going to be OK.'

She buries her head in his shoulder. 'I'm a mess,' she says. 'My mom says she wants to visit me and my boyfriend and I freak out. I've been doing so well since we moved here. We have an apartment. You have a job. I'm about to graduate. One phone call from her and it all goes to pieces.'

He starts rubbing her back slowly, hoping that the rhythmic motion would help calm her down. 'It's OK. Your mom is … kinda a confusing person and not easy to deal with. What did you say when she called?'

She shrugs. 'I told her I'd have to talk to you about it, and said I had to get to class, and then hung up. I didn't go, though. I came home, took down the Jack Daniels and started crying.'

'It's ok to have setbacks,' he says. 'You can take a mental health day tomorrow, and we'll call Dr Covel, see if you can have your session tomorrow instead of Friday. He'll help you figure out what we should do about your mom. I'll come with you even, if you want. Do you think you can do that? Go to Dr Covel tomorrow?'

She nods. 'Yeah, I think I can do that. I just wish – wish dealing with her wasn't so complicated. I don't know why you put up with her, or me, or that,' she says, gesturing to the bottle of Jack Daniels. 'Or like any of this.'

'Yeah, your mom is crazy, and you're having a bad day. But you're perfect for me, and I love you.' He kisses her forehead. 'I'll always be here for you. I promise.'


End file.
